<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>off the cuff by simplyclockwork</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27018349">off the cuff</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyclockwork/pseuds/simplyclockwork'>simplyclockwork</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tumblr Inspired/Prompted Fics - Part Two [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Captain John Watson, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Smut, Johnlock - Freeform, Light Bondage, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild begging, Oh Captain My Captain Fusion, Oral Sex, Rimming, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safe bondage, Smut, Top John Watson, Tumblr Prompt, season one Sherlock</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:54:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,740</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27018349</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyclockwork/pseuds/simplyclockwork</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Staring up at Sherlock from between his parted legs with a voracious expression and his pupils blown wide, John raggedly whispers, “I want to tie you up.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes/John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tumblr Inspired/Prompted Fics - Part Two [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1968538</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>162</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>off the cuff</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prompted by anon on Tumblr:</p><p>  <i>I’d love a fusion between your “Captain” series and canon Sherlock (post-season 4 or season 1 or 2) where they have just started an intimate relationship. And John wants to tie Sherlock up (nothing extreme at all and absolutely not dubcon). Just hands behind his back. It had not occurred to Sherlock to do that and he is surprised. John backs off and says he absolutely doesn’t have to. But Sherlock agrees and enjoys it. Sherlock is definitely 100 percent consenting; just slightly taken aback.</i></p><p>----</p><p>If you're wondering what the "Captain" series is, it's my <i>Oh Captain, My Captain</i> AU smut series where Sherlock meets John while he's still serving and on leave in London and they have copious amounts of emotional, soldier-kink sex. It started with a smutty cracky fic and is currently deep into the emotional smut phase (and ongoing). You can read it <b> <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/series/1740022">here</a> </b></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">“Remember when we were ambushed by those smugglers, and they tied us both to a chair?”</p><p class="p1">John’s soft voice tugs Sherlock out of his mind, and he opens his eyes to find John watching him with a keen, focused expression on his face from his chair. A hint of something almost predatory lurks in that look, and Sherlock suppresses a mild shiver.</p><p class="p1">“Do you mean the time Lestrade found us and threatened to leave us there because we rushed off without him yet again?” Sherlock asks, feigning innocence. Though the intimacy of their relationship is new, John’s short home-leaves from deployment inevitably bring out his sexually ravenous side, and Sherlock watches him back with piqued interest. He rubs his fingertips along his bottom lip, resisting the urge to smile when John’s eyes darken and immediately drop to Sherlock’s mouth.</p><p class="p1">Leaning forward in his chair, nails digging into the armrests, John's eyes narrow as he breathes, “Yeah, I do.”</p><p class="p1">A small, amused twitch of Sherlock’s lips escapes before he can reign it back. “And then you pulled rank and threatened to have him written up for disobeying a military officer, and we didn’t hear from him for nearly two weeks.”</p><p class="p1">John’s nod is tight and eager, his gaze sweeping over Sherlock’s body. His pupils widen, making his eyes dark and piercing in his face. His posture, still angled forward and predatorily aggressive, makes Sherlock think there’s far more to John bringing up the smuggler case than mere nostalgia.</p><p class="p1">“What brought that to mind?” Sherlock asks, arching a brow before his breath catches at the sight of John’s tongue, darting out to pass over his bottom lip. “Planning to bully Lestrade again?” He fights to keep his tone casual, but his body responds to John's energy, which is <em>distracting.</em></p><p class="p1">John’s voice growls out low and rough as he husks, “Not at all.” Something has <em>definitely </em>put John in a lascivious mood. Sherlock narrows his eyes, studying him as he tries to deduce the catalyst. When he fails to pinpoint the instigator for John’s behaviour, he deigns to ask.</p><p class="p1">“What’s on your mind, then?”</p><p class="p1">Teeth pressed hard into his bottom lip, John’s eyes darken and fasten on Sherlock’s. “I was thinking about how you looked, tied up like that.”</p><p class="p1">Perplexed by the admission, Sherlock frowns again. “That’s what you chose to focus on?” At John’s eager nod, he blinks. “Why?”</p><p class="p1">John leans closer. Their legs touch, and he keeps going until he slips off the chair and onto his knees, hands landing on Sherlock’s thighs. Staring up at Sherlock from between his parted legs with a voracious expression and his pupils blown wide, John raggedly whispers, “I want to tie you up.”</p><p class="p1">Eyes widening, Sherlock stiffens with surprise. Always tuned-in to Sherlock’s every little reaction, John’s hands leave his thighs instantly, and he rocks back on his heels to give space. The disappearance of his grip on Sherlock’s legs feels cold and sudden, and Sherlock frowns. Before he can respond or adequately process the request and reaction, John is already speaking.</p><p class="p1">“Sorry.” Lowering his hands from the air, John grips his own knees, still squatting against the base of his chair. He is calm and contrite, perfectly apologetic, and misunderstanding Sherlock's initial confusion for distress. “We don’t have to. I won't do anything you don't want to do.” He hesitates before slowly reaching out and stroking Sherlock’s calf through his trousers, his voice soft as he adds, “I’m sorry.”</p><p class="p1">Gradually recovering, Sherlock shakes his head and blinks twice before his mind finally processes John’s words. Clearing his throat, he lays a hand over John’s, keeping it in place. Relief glitters in John’s eyes, his lips quirking in a slight smile.</p><p class="p1">“You okay?” he asks, turning Sherlock’s hand over so he can trace the lines of his palm with gentle fingers. The contact is light and teasing, and Sherlock shivers. He catches John’s small smirk from the corner of his eyes. Taking a moment to sort his thoughts, he finally speaks.</p><p class="p1">“I’m fine,” he assures. Looking at John’s wide, earnest eyes and kind face, Sherlock sucks in a breath. “When you say you want to tie me up…” The words trail off, and John smiles, his expression encouraging. He is always impossibly patient, always waiting for Sherlock to catch up, to process and organize his thoughts. Emboldened by John’s quiet steadiness, Sherlock swallows and finishes in a hoarse voice, “What <em>exactly</em> do you mean?”</p><p class="p1">John’s fingers lace through his and tighten, his breathing quickening in tandem with the gesture. “Just your hands,” he says in a comforting, steady tone. “Behind your back. Not too tight, nothing more.” His eyes grow steadily darker, pupils huge and expression creeping back toward ravenous. Sherlock’s only response to his words is an interested tilt of the head as he silently urges John to continue. “Just enough to make you a little helpless,” John breathes, his other hand coming up to grip Sherlock’s thigh. The hold is tight but not painful, the pad of John’s thumb rubbing little circles over the expensive fabric of Sherlock’s trousers.</p><p class="p1">Mouth suddenly dry, Sherlock tilts forward, slipping his hand free from John’s grip, his palms skating up John’s muscular arms and settling on his broad shoulders. “Why would you want me a little helpless?” he asks, breath hitching when John’s smile turns starved and fierce. </p><p class="p1">“So I can take you apart,” John replies in a rough voice. It edges toward a growl on the last word, the husky sound making Sherlock shiver as John relentlessly continues. “Lay you out, with your legs over my shoulders while I take you to pieces with my mouth and my tongue and my lips.” John falters, hissing out a ragged sigh, reacting to his own statements.</p><p class="p1">Drawn forward by the visions painted by John's husking voice, Sherlock stares at John’s lips, whining low and desperate when John’s tongue darts out in a slow sweep. John goes on, and Sherlock struggles to follow along as his heart races, and his trousers grow uncomfortably tight.</p><p class="p1">John’s words slip out between panting breaths, his face flushed and desirous as he stares up at Sherlock. “I want to make you squirm until you’re desperate for me to fill you. Until you’re begging me for it, and the sensation of my cock finally, <em>finally</em> pushing inside makes you want to cry.” Leaning forward, smirking at Sherlock’s loud, unsteady breathing, John mouths at his ear. He tugs the lobe past his lips with his teeth and sucks before whispering, “I want to shoot fireworks through that gorgeous body of yours. Make your big, beautiful brain go offline until all you know is me, and all you can think of is how good I make you feel.”</p><p class="p1">The air rushes out of Sherlock’s body in a loud gust, fast enough to make him dizzy. Filled with desperation and need, he turns his head. His nose bumps against the edge of John’s jaw, into his cheek, his eyes closed, blindly seeking John’s mouth with a frantic whimper. A low chuckle rumbles against his neck before John lifts his chin. Their mouths meet, sliding together messily, John coaxing Sherlock’s lips open with a firm tongue.</p><p class="p1">Sherlock opens for him immediately, groaning deep in his throat, pressing closer when John loops an arm around his waist and reels him in. Shifting, John settles onto his backside, legs bent and parted, anchoring Sherlock between his thighs with his knees pressing into Sherlock’s sides. Rather than feeling trapped, Sherlock feels protected, and he crowds closer. Sliding a hand under John’s shirt, he explores the play of taut muscle and flexing abdominals beneath his fingertips. John growls and tangles his fingers in Sherlock’s curls, tilting Sherlock’s head to deepen the kiss.</p><p class="p1">When Sherlock finally breaks away to gasp for air, he stays close, whispering against John’s lips, “Do it. Tie me up, John.” He pauses to savour the broken, wild noise John makes in response and adds, “I want you to.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, god, yes,” John rasps. The words are nearly incoherent as he kisses Sherlock with frenzied intensity, nipping at his lips and sucking on his tongue until Sherlock gasps and sags boneless against him. His hands running over Sherlock’s back, down his spine, tracing his ribs, keep Sherlock in his body as his mind hums out an error message. “I’m going to make you feel so good,” John promises, sharp and ragged, dropping his head to mark Sherlock’s neck with his teeth and lips. <em>“So, so good.” </em></p><p class="p1">Sherlock manages a pathetic little sound, nodding his consent when John studies his face, expectant. He forces out a breathy, “Please. <em>Yes,” </em>and John grins. With that confirmation, he pulls Sherlock’s legs around his waist, waits until Sherlock catches on and grabs a tight hold of John’s shoulders, and stands. He pauses to adjust his grip, hands cupping Sherlock’s arse and making them both groan before John carries Sherlock across the sitting room, down the hall to the bedroom. Sherlock clings to John's upper body, sucking hard at the hollow of his throat. Every time John picks him up like this as if it's entirely effortless, his biceps flexing and the tendons tightening in his neck, Sherlock thinks he might lose his mind. As it is, he nearly swoons and desperately laves his tongue over the hard ridge of John’s trachea.</p><p class="p1">His back hits the bed, and John follows him down to the mattress, pinning Sherlock with his body before claiming his mouth. The kiss is greedy, John’s tongue sliding alongside Sherlock’s, his hips rutting in slow, teasing rolls against Sherlock’s thigh. Every brush makes Sherlock squirm, his cock already aching, trapped and uncomfortable in his too-tight trousers.</p><p class="p1">John’s name slips from his lips in a pant, a breathy, whining, “<em>John,”</em> that sounds more plea than demand. As soon as John tilts back, lifting himself on his hands, Sherlock’s hips jerk upward. “Touch me, <em>please.”</em></p><p class="p1">Muffling his amused snort in Sherlock’s neck, John hauls Sherlock higher on the bed, setting him down with his head on the pillows. He tilts down to press a teasing kiss to the corner of Sherlock’s mouth before leaning back again, murmuring, “Anything for you, gorgeous.” Before the flush has entirely spread over Sherlock’s face, John sits back on his heels and works at the fly of Sherlock’s trousers. He gets them open and halfway down Sherlock’s legs before Sherlock can react, groaning with relief when his pants follow, and his trapped cock springs free.</p><p class="p1">John wastes no time palming Sherlock’s leaking erection. He smears precum over the rock-hard shaft, making Sherlock squirm and throw his head back against the pillows. “John,” he whines, rolling his hips up into the curve of John’s hand, desperate for friction to fuck into, for relief. <em>“John.”</em></p><p class="p1">“Mm,” John hums, his voice a throaty purr as he lowers himself over Sherlock’s body. He nuzzles and nips at Sherlock’s throat and shoulders, wetting his skin with saliva from his open-mouthed kisses. “This is going to be easier than I thought.”</p><p class="p1">Sherlock’s only response is a needy groan, his hips still rutting, John’s hand a perfect point of contact but not <em>nearly </em>enough. “Please,” he rasps, remembering John’s threat to make him beg for it. Maybe if he begs now, John will give in and fuck him into the mattress until Sherlock is a melted pool of post-orgasm rapture.</p><p class="p1">To his extreme frustration, John has far more self-control than Sherlock and is unfazed by his desperate little whimpers when John’s hand disappears from his cock. As if adding insult to injury, John slips off of him and the bed, his weight disappearing from Sherlock’s body. When he is so worked up, the utter lack of contact fills him with a raging sense of loss.</p><p class="p1">Twisting onto his side, Sherlock peers over the side of the bed where John is digging beneath the frame. “What do you think you’re doing?” Sherlock demands, his voice coarse and irritated, making his sense of abandonment abundantly clear.</p><p class="p1">John pops out from beneath the bed, drops something on the floor, and seizes Sherlock’s face between his hands. His voice is affectionate but sharp as he growls, “You are <em>so bloody impatient.”</em> Sherlock opens his mouth to retort, but John surges forward and kisses him hard. Anything he might have said disappears into a weak groan as John’s tongue slides over his teeth and flicks against the roof of his mouth.</p><p class="p1">Melting beneath the onslaught of John’s lips against his, Sherlock sags down to the mattress, John rolling him back to the middle with ease. He follows Sherlock up off the floor, settling on Sherlock’s hips and setting something on the sheets next to his legs. When Sherlock rolls his head to look, John catches him by the chin and grins down at him with a sharp, wolfish expression.</p><p class="p1">“Eyes on me,” he orders, bending to scrape his teeth over Sherlock’s throat. The rough, teasing sensation pulls a high-pitched, drawn-out noise of need from deep in Sherlock’s chest, and he tries to follow John when John breaks the kiss and leans back. Placing his fingertips on Sherlock’s chest, John pushes lightly, and Sherlock collapses against the pillows with an emphatic sigh.</p><p class="p1">“John,” he gasps, goosebumps rising over his skin at the feeling of John’s palms drifting over his bare thighs.</p><p class="p1">John hums a soft, “Shh,” before his hands move higher, over the tight material of Sherlock’s shirt. He frees the buttons one at a time. His eyes fix onto Sherlock’s face, taking in every micro-expression Sherlock knows must be flickering over his features with each loosened button.</p><p class="p1">A hand on his waist draws his upper body off the bed, his shirt slipped off one arm, then the other before John tosses it onto the floor. Expecting John to push him back down again, Sherlock starts to lean back. But John’s grip returns to his waist, tightening and holding him in place. With his free hand, John grabs whatever he placed on the bed and holds it up.</p><p class="p1">Sherlock’s eyes fasten onto the object. Two black velcro cuffs dangle from John's hand, connected by a simple metal clip. It looks easily undone and far safer than the handcuffs or rope Sherlock anticipated. He reaches out, and John readily relinquishes the restraints, watching Sherlock’s face as if assessing his comfort level.</p><p class="p1">Turning the nylon cuffs over in his hands, studying every inch of the design, Sherlock raises his gaze to John’s face. Sherlock’s heart races, his briefly lapsed arousal rushing back with the mental images of everything John promised him earlier.</p><p class="p1">John’s expression is open, just a hint of apprehension in his eyes. Holding his stare, Sherlock slowly tilts his head in a nod. He hears the catch in John’s breath, the hoarse little groan before he is pressing into Sherlock and kissing him back down to the pillows. Already close to fully aroused again, Sherlock sighs and whimpers, his cock hardening beneath the stroke of John’s tongue over his.</p><p class="p1">The kisses draw out, deepen and slide into a frantic drag of lips. John’s mouth smears over his, along his jaw and down his neck. Tongue flicking over one nipple, then the other, John sends electricity through Sherlock’s body, and he pushes his hips upward with a needy groan.</p><p class="p1">“God, listen to you,” John breathes with an overwhelming devotion that makes Sherlock’s head spin. “The <em>noises </em>you make, they drive me mad.” John’s voice drops into a rumble, and he dips his tongue into the curve of Sherlock’s navel. The sensation makes Sherlock’s cock twitch and tap against John’s skin, smearing precum as John slides lower.</p><p class="p1">His hot breath brushes the leaking slit of Sherlock’s erection before John’s tongue darts out, catching a drop and sucking it and the head into his mouth. Sherlock jolts and shudders, twisting his hands in the sheets. Unable to regain control of his body, his hips roll upward, pushing his cock deeper past John's lips. John hums in pleasure as Sherlock sinks toward the back of his tightening throat. John softens his mouth with another hum and wraps his tongue around the coronal ridge, sending Sherlock into mindless, shouting bliss.</p><p class="p1">Before he can regain his mind, John pulls off and yanks Sherlock up onto his knees, propping him up by hooking his elbows against Sherlock's sides. John's lips and tongue move over the ridge of Sherlock’s throat, his voice ragged and gravelly as he whispers, “Going to make this so good for you, Sherlock. So, <em>so fucking</em> good.” Nylon slides over Sherlock’s wrists, John carefully closing the cuffs and adjusting with the ripping sound of velcro. When he finally seems pleased with the fit, working two fingers between Sherlock’s wrists and the straps, John’s hands slide up Sherlock’s arms, over his shoulders and up into his hair. Tilting Sherlock’s head back, John licks into his mouth and growls, tugging hard at his bottom lip.</p><p class="p1">Dazed from the kiss, Sherlock makes a soft whining sound when John suddenly disappears. But he returns quickly, shedding his clothes and locking his hands on Sherlock’s waist.</p><p class="p1">“Come here,” he whispers, dragging Sherlock into his lap. With John’s legs spread, and Sherlock’s knees open on either side of his hips, John rolls upward, sliding their cocks together. The sensation is perfect but not nearly enough, and Sherlock ruts forward with evident enthusiasm, drawing lines of precum over John’s hip, his stomach and navel. John drops his mouth to Sherlock’s shoulder, sinking teeth against the muscle as Sherlock moans.</p><p class="p1">“More, John.” Ducking his head and nosing at John’s ear, Sherlock takes the lobe in his teeth and repeats, “<em>More.” </em>He feels John’s smile against his jaw when John tilts his head up and nips him in return.</p><p class="p1">“So impatient,” he says in a teasing voice, hands sliding over Sherlock’s hips and back, moving down to cup his flexing arse in both hands. “I told you, I’m going to make you beg.”</p><p class="p1">Voicing a low growl, Sherlock tips forward. Unable to use his hands, Sherlock mouths over John's neck with the faint possibility of helplessness adding a delicious edge to their foreplay. Whenever he tries to rut against John’s hip or his hard stomach, <em>anything,</em> John pulls him closer by his arse and smothers the attempted movement.</p><p class="p1">“John!” he whines, sinking his teeth into John’s shoulder. Rather than gaining the upper hand, the action just makes John chuckle, and Sherlock finds himself on his back, then his stomach as John rolls him over. The movement is sudden and unexpected, and Sherlock shouts when John’s teeth drag over his left arsecheek. He bucks forward, startled, and groans as his cock comes in contact with the sheets in a rough drag.</p><p class="p1">“Nope.” John’s hands catch him by the hips and yank him onto his knees and back, and Sherlock goes with a frustrated growl, fingers curling into claws where his hands are caught together at the small of his back. He gasps at a wet, warm sensation: John, mouthing at his fingers, sucking them between his lips one at a time, tonguing over the tips and knuckles. Sherlock squirms but stays up on his knees, rolling his cheek angrily against the pillow.</p><p class="p1">Already, he feels he might go mad, and John shows no signs of granting mercy anytime soon. He twitches his fingers and strokes John’s tongue, groaning when John grunts and sucks harder. Sherlock’s hips jerk forward, thrusting into air, and his cock dribbles liberally onto the bedspread.</p><p class="p1">Just as he opens his mouth to make some kind of noise, either a snarl or a sob, John’s mouth disappears off his ring finger. The air is cold on Sherlock’s spit-wet skin, but not for long, because John’s tongue flicks down his spine, sending a surge of hot want through his body.</p><p class="p1">His earlier interrupted sound finally escapes. It turns out to be a sob, shifting into a keening cry at the slide of John’s tongue over his arsehole. Sherlock’s body clenches and flutters, and he groans into the pillow. He feels like he might be burned alive. Set on fire with every nerve in his body flaring and shooting lightning beneath his skin, fed by the clever darting of John’s tongue against his tight hole.</p><p class="p1">Saliva drips over his cleft, and Sherlock feels John’s low growl when he parts Sherlock’s cheeks and delves deeper. His eager licking becomes a pointed tracing of furled muscle, working Sherlock open with slick, wet heat. By the time the coaxing shifts into targeted jabs of John’s tongue against his hole, Sherlock is panting into the pillow, toes curling in time with the rhythm of John’s efforts.</p><p class="p1">John breaches him, and Sherlock jerks forward before hands catch him by the hips and hold him in place. Tongue pressing past softened muscle, John groans and pushes his face between Sherlock’s cheeks. Every noise he makes is obscene, wet slurps and humming pleasure, Sherlock complimenting the litany with rough grunts and helpless growls. His mouth falls open, slack and loose, and he drools into the pillow, pressing his hips back, trying to bring John deeper. There’s no rationality to the movement. A tongue is only so long. But Sherlock’s aching cock bounces with his aborted attempts at thrusting, John still holding him in place, and he can’t help but try.</p><p class="p1">Tongue twisting and pressing, John makes Sherlock’s body light up like the sky during a meteor shower, little flashes of illumination and stunning ecstasy prickling over his body with pinpricks of pleasure. His balls tighten, cock twitching in time with the dart of John’s tongue, and Sherlock wonders if he is going to come untouched. It’s never happened before, though he's come close. His toes curl, and he pants sobbing breaths into the pillow.</p><p class="p1">John’s tongue dips deep, making Sherlock bite the case and growl, tensing up in preparation for his climax, only for John to pull back. The sudden rush of air against his spit-slick hole makes him gasp, and Sherlock glares over his shoulder to see John sitting on his heels, grinning at him. Spit glistens on his face. It is smeared over his lips and chin, and John wipes a hand over his mouth with a smug wink.</p><p class="p1">“What,” Sherlock tries, loses his voice and finds it again with a growl, “are you <em>doing?”</em></p><p class="p1">The expression on John’s face turns absolutely feral, taking Sherlock’s breath away. Grabbing the metal clip connecting Sherlock’s velcro-bound hands, John pulls him back, Sherlock's knees dragging against the sheets. “I told you,” he pants, holding Sherlock in place by the restraints as he caresses the curve of a hip with one hand. “I’m going to take you apart.”</p><p class="p1">Sherlock whimpers at the words, but the sound is eager, wanton. Any reservations he held for John’s fantasy dissolved when John whispered filthy promises in his ear out in the sitting room. <em>“Please,” </em>he groans, whining his way into another whimper. John chuckles, a low, dark sound, and pets his hip and thigh. The touch briefly passes over his cock and makes Sherlock curse, hand gliding up between his cheeks. His thumb glides over Sherlock’s fluttering hole, the tip dipping in on the way, and Sherlock’s knees nearly buckle.</p><p class="p1">He closes his eyes and shifts his hips back with a questioning grunt, and finds himself moved onto his side with a smooth tug. The bed dips, and Sherlock opens his eyes to see John’s cock inches from his mouth. He blinks and twists his head to see John’s face down by his thighs, and groans again, already opening his mouth to welcome John’s leaking cock as it pushes toward his lips.</p><p class="p1">John’s cock is long and thick, leaking salty arousal onto his tongue. After the initial press into Sherlock’s mouth, John holds his hips in place, letting Sherlock lap at the tip and suckle at the slit. He hears John’s low moan down by his hips, his own cock jerking in response. John’s lips close over the head seconds later, and Sherlock gasps out a stuttering breath around John’s cock. He lifts his chin, taking John deeper, gagging and drawing back to drag his tongue along the underside. Sherlock fights with his gag reflex, growling and suckling at the tip, slowly working his way up to trying again. He makes it halfway down before his throat closes, and he has to lean away with a cough. On Sherlock's third try, John sucks hard and takes him deep. Sherlock gasps, stiffening in pleasure and stimulation before he can even make another attempt at taking all of John into his mouth.</p><p class="p1">It takes another few sloppy attempts with spit drooling down his chin, John’s cock slick with it until Sherlock finally manages. He softens his throat and takes the entirety of John’s length. When he succeeds, the head bumping up against his palate and deeper, John’s mouth abruptly pops off his cock with a long, unsteady whimper.</p><p class="p1"><em>“Fuck</em>,” he hisses, shivers passing through his body. Tilting his head carefully, Sherlock sees John staring at him, his eyes huge and dark, his face flushed, and Sherlock’s cock brushing up against his cheek. “Fuck,” John repeats in a strained voice, watching Sherlock deepthroat him. Without blinking, eyes locked on Sherlock’s face, John gives a slow, careful thrust forward with his hips, sliding a little deeper. Sherlock’s eyes immediately flutter to half-mast, and he squints in concentration, swirling his tongue along the underside of John’s shaft.</p><p class="p1">“Oh my <em>god,</em> Sherlock,” John growls. At the sound of his name, Sherlock quivers, and his cock shoots a line of precum onto John’s cheek. Instead of jerking away, John moans, eyes nearly rolling back, and goes for Sherlock’s erection with fierce appetite. He sucks Sherlock deep into his mouth, no working up to it like Sherlock had to, and hollows his cheeks.</p><p class="p1">The sudden attack wipes every thought from Sherlock’s head, and his lips pop off John’s cock with a slurp. He tries to regain his focus and take John back into his mouth, but he’s too busy struggling to regain his stolen breath to succeed. Instead, Sherlock moans and groans and whimpers and whines, working his tongue and mouth sloppily over any part of John he can reach. His lips land on hip and thigh more often than cock, but John doesn’t seem to mind, growling as he ducks his head to draw one of Sherlock’s bollocks into his mouth.</p><p class="p1">“Ah!” A little, breathy cry escapes Sherlock’s lips, and his neck arches, cheek scraping over the pillow. Gritting his teeth as John sucks the other testicle into his mouth, he nuzzles into the coarse hair at the base of John’s cock, licking up the shaft and suckling the leaking head. The action only seems to drive John wild, and he takes Sherlock back into his mouth, cock sliding over the flat of his tongue, and sucks until Sherlock’s entire body burns.</p><p class="p1">Just as he, once again, tips toward the edge, John’s mouth disappears. Too stunned to protest, Sherlock collapses into the sheets and pants, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. He barely notices when John removes one of the cuffs on his wrist. Rolling him onto his back, he guides Sherlock’s hands down onto his stomach before fastening them together once more.</p><p class="p1">With his hands cuffed and resting together on his belly, Sherlock looks down his body with half-open eyes, where John kneels between his spread legs. Dizzy with his quickened breathing and the slowly-receding second almost-orgasm, Sherlock watches lazily as John grips his cock and drags the head over the inside of Sherlock’s thigh. The slit leaves a slick, glistening line on his skin, and John does the same on the other side, making Sherlock shiver with the faintly ticklish sensation, his eyes locked on John’s cock. Feeling John’s stare, he looks up and meets his ravenous gaze, whining when John’s tongue darts out and sweeps over his bottom lip.</p><p class="p1">“Tell me you want it,” John whispers, the words forced out in an unsteady rush of air. Sherlock echoes the sound in a panting gasp, nodding his head with silent eagerness. John’s face darkens in a predatory expression, and he drops low over Sherlock. One hand grabs onto his thigh, the other making a fist around the sheets next to Sherlock’s head. “I want to hear you <em>say it,”</em> John orders, nose-to-nose with Sherlock, staring into his widening eyes as he repeats, “Tell me you want it.”</p><p class="p1">Still nodding, Sherlock forces out, “I do, I want it, <em>I do,</em> please John.” He’s babbling and doesn’t care, tilting his head to whimper and nuzzle against John’s jaw, chanting, “I want it, give it to me, <em>I want it.” </em>John’s teeth close on his throat, and Sherlock jerks before he moans and laps at the sweat on John’s temple, aching to taste, to touch, for anything John will give him.</p><p class="p1">His mouth softening, John presses a soft, lingering kiss to the underside of Sherlock’s jaw, whispering, “Yeah? You want it, do you?”</p><p class="p1">“Yes,” Sherlock whispers back, struggling to lift his hips, still pinned down by John’s hand on his thigh. “Yes, John, please, please. I <em>want it.”</em></p><p class="p1">John’s lips curl into a sharp grin, and he looms over Sherlock. Holding his gaze, he pushes his hand across the sheets and fists it in the hair at Sherlock’s nape. He tugs Sherlock’s head back. The gesture makes his neck arch, and John’s mouth is on his throat again, planting slow, hot, open-mouthed kisses up to his jaw and down to his collar bones before he repeats the circuit. His stubble rasps Sherlock’s skin, making his body tingle, but it’s his other hand, the one on Sherlock’s thigh, that has his attention.</p><p class="p1">It moves slowly, squeezing tight and firm over his muscles, working downward and toward his cock. Sherlock’s hips give a hopeful little roll, but John only strokes his thumb quickly over his length, smears precum over his fingers, and drops lower. Still holding Sherlock’s head back against the sheets, sucking a bruise into the lovely pale skin of his throat, John slips his precum-slick finger over Sherlock’s balls. He trails along his perineum and behind.</p><p class="p1">The tip circles where the muscle is softened and slick from John’s mouth and lips, taunting and welcomed and too light. It circles and teases and makes Sherlock’s breath catch. The inhale stutters out, and John's finger pushes in so slowly.</p><p class="p1">Initially, Sherlock’s body tenses, nerves strung out from John’s unrelenting denial. Then he breathes a little sigh, and the finger slips up to the first knuckle, making him jerk and groan. His lashes flutter as John leans back far enough to see his face, nails scratching lightly over Sherlock’s scalp, where he grips his hair by the roots. The grasp is firm but not painful, an echo of the slow stretching John’s finger performs inside him, and Sherlock can’t help but groan again. John’s eyes stay pinned to his face, watching even his most subtle reactions as he pulls his finger almost all the way out, then pushes back inside. The muscles ripple in Sherlock’s abdomen, his thighs shaking, little whimpers dropping from his lips in time with John’s thrusting hand.</p><p class="p1">He fucks Sherlock with one finger, then two, all the while watching Sherlock’s focus with hawk-like focus. “You’re beautiful,” John whispers, pupils huge and dark, lips parted, his face flushed. <em>“So</em> beautiful, Sherlock.”</p><p class="p1">Sherlock’s mind is a rambling jumble, his thoughts running into one another and fragmenting into nonsense. Somewhere in the wash of disorder, he thinks he’d like to ask John to fuck him, but words seem impossible, and he barely manages a soft whine. John rewards him with a third finger, and Sherlock’s eyes roll back, heels sliding against the sheets as he grips John's sides desperately with his knees.</p><p class="p1">“Fuck,” he pants, brow furrowed, eyes tightly shut. Starbursts flash behind his lids, synaptic ecstasy washing over his brain as his body takes over. “Fuck me, John,” he manages to growl, forcing his eyes open to slits. John is hazy and blurred through Sherlock’s eyelashes, but his hungry expression is vivid all the same.</p><p class="p1">His fingers thrust and twist, and Sherlock’s back arches, spine curving as his body lifts off the bed. The grip in his hair disappears, John’s palm curving over his hip as he pushes Sherlock back down to the mattress. Sherlock huffs out a furious breath and wriggles, but John holds him in place with ease, fingertips brushing Sherlock's prostate again and sending another wave of molten rapture through him.</p><p class="p1">With his nerves still tingling, Sherlock opens his mouth and begs. Truly begs, eyes fixed on John and back lifting with each stroke of fingers inside him, calling out, “John, please, John, <em>John,</em> John, <em>John, please!” </em>The last escapes as a shout when John angles his fingers and makes his entire body light up. “Puh-<em>lease!”</em> The word breaks into two drawn-out, pleading syllables, and Sherlock nearly sobs when John’s fingers slip out of him, leaving a terrible impression of emptiness behind. Sherlock whimpers, captive hands twitching and scrabbling against his stomach, desperate to be filled, to be fucked, aching and almost weeping for John. He’s aware that he’s still speaking, but his own words wash over him like white noise, and Sherlock clamps his knees tight around John’s sides.</p><p class="p1">They are pushed aside the next instant, his shaking legs no match for John’s strength. His body burns and pleads with sweat and sighs and emptiness. A shout of pure triumph escapes Sherlock when John’s cock finally brushes his hole, stretching the muscle with a brief, intense burn before inching inside.</p><p class="p1">“Oh god, John!” Sherlock yelps, his bound hands lifting uselessly. Mrs. Hudson can no doubt hear him—hell, the <em>neighbours</em> two doors down can probably hear him—but Sherlock is too far gone to care. All he wants is John; all he knows is John. All he can feel is the thick head of John’s cock inside him, stretching and coaxing his tight body into making way.</p><p class="p1">John pauses to pull Sherlock’s legs over his shoulders before he drops onto his elbows over Sherlock’s torso. Forehead pressed to Sherlock’s sternum, tilting his head down to watch where they are joined together, John pushes. He grunts and growls and slides deeper with agonizing slowness, Sherlock gurgling nonsense above him.</p><p class="p1">Staring at the top of John’s head, at the short hair darkened by sweat, Sherlock shudders with what feels like an endless stretch. His body tenses and shakes and he grits his teeth, forcing his muscles to loosen. Everything fights back, his nerves buzzing with the need for release and John before ultimately releasing.</p><p class="p1">The last inches of John’s cock slide forward in a sudden rush, and his hips butt up against Sherlock’s backside, making Sherlock gasp out a high, breathless sound. They both groan when John’s cock twitches inside him, and John slowly lifts his head from Sherlock’s abdomen. His face is sweaty, hair plastered to his skull, eyes wide and vicious with arousal. He is stunning and magnificent and beastly all at once, and Sherlock can barely stand to stare for too long unless John blind him with his brilliance. Looking at him is like looking at the sun, and Sherlock shuts his eyes as a dizzy wave of deep, undeniable sentiment washes over him.</p><p class="p1">John rolls his hips, shifting out just slightly before pushing back inside, and Sherlock’s eyes fly open with a cry. He locks eyes with John, realizing there were words in his shout, and John heard every single one.</p><p class="p1">Before he can explain or panic, John is bending, pushing Sherlock’s legs down with his shoulders and kissing him with desperate, attentive intensity. He tastes Sherlock’s tongue, his cheek, the inside of his lip, breaking away, at last, to whisper, “I love you, too.” John kisses him again. He swallows down Sherlock’s tiny, mewling whimpers of pleasure and snaps his hips back and forward, then again, growling, “God, yeah, Sherlock, I <em>love you.” </em></p><p class="p1">Every thrust pushes Sherlock closer to the edge. With his hands trapped between their bodies, his cock twitching against John’s stomach and his legs hooked over John’s shoulders, he tries to stay grounded. Sherlock rides the waves of pleasure with John as the shore, the ocean, and the tide, washing him away and pulling him under the surface. Just as promised, John fucks him until all he knows is John and John’s mouth on his skin, John’s teeth against his shoulder, John’s noises filling his ears.</p><p class="p1">“John,” Sherlock sobs out, one last bid for coherency before he drowns. His orgasm rises, swells deep and spirals outwards, a wicked whirlpool that drags him down, down, down, out of his head and into his body. The sound of flesh against flesh is loud in the room, their mingled panting nearly louder. All Sherlock can hear is <em>JohnJohnJohnJohnJohn,</em> repeated in his head like a drum, beating in time with his heart.</p><p class="p1">His cock rubs against John’s stomach with every thrust. John fills him deeply and deliciously with each rock of his hips, Sherlock’s hands digging into flesh, trapped by velcro and skin and nylon. Whether it’s his skin or John’s that he scratches at, he can’t tell. He is lost, coming apart at the seams just as John promised. The whirlpool of his oncoming orgasm finally collapses in on itself, sending waves through his entire body as he clenches, shouts John’s name, and spills between them. Each twitch of his cock shoots sticky cum over his stomach, onto John’s chest, over his restrained hands before Sherlock collapses, limp, to the mattress.</p><p class="p1">The aftershocks are cruel, full-body shakes that make his teeth click together and send John growling, snarling, moaning into his own climax. His last thrusts are sloppy and wild, hips snapping forward once, twice, thrice until Sherlock feels the hot spurt where John is sunk deep, their bodies close enough to feel like one.</p><p class="p1">When John drops down on top of him, his arms giving out, their breathing sounds like it might be shared, echoing in the wild beat of their hearts where they are pressed together, chest to chest.</p><p class="p1">Sherlock’s brain comes back online, far too slowly, but he can’t be bothered to care. He mewls and sighs when John sits up, and tears open the velcro cuffs, pushing Sherlock’s arms down to his sides before collapsing back onto his sated body. John takes one hand and brings it to his mouth, pressing kisses to the slight reddening on the wrist between loud panting breaths, his lips soft and wet on Sherlock’s skin. By the time John moves to the other wrist, Sherlock is no longer a senseless ghost of himself, and he hums with appreciation at John’s gentle attention.</p><p class="p1">“So,” John says, his hoarse voice a sharp contrast to his soft eyes as he looks at Sherlock's face. Tensing, wondering if John will bring up his spontaneous love confession, Sherlock slowly relaxes at John’s affectionate smile. He rubs a gentle finger over Sherlock’s wrist, making him shiver. "What's the verdict?"</p><p class="p1">Swallowing around a sudden tightness in his throat, once more thinking John too incandescent to look at directly, Sherlock rasps, “It was… a positive experience.”</p><p class="p1">John’s laugh rushes out of him in a wheeze, and he shakes his head. Pressing his lips to Sherlock’s pulse, he smiles up at him and whispers, “You are insufferable, and I love you.”</p><p class="p1">Colour flooding into his face, Sherlock pushes aside the instinctive reaction to close up and protect himself, and instead opens to John, breathing, “I love you, too.” John’s lips curve against his wrist, and his breath catches when Sherlock adds, “And I wouldn’t say no to using the cuffs again.” Coughing delicately, he tries for a smirk and nearly succeeds, though John's eyes sparkle with amusement. “After all, no experiment can be truly successful if the results can’t be replicated.”</p><p class="p1">John’s answer is a silent widening of his smile, the expression shifting into a wolfish grin before he presses his teeth to Sherlock’s skin with a low, possessive growl. “I hope you know I'm not going to forget you said that,” he warns with a playful little click of teeth.</p><p class="p1">Quirking an eyebrow, Sherlock smirks down at him and slips a fingertip over John’s bottom lip. “Good.” John’s breath catches against his finger, and Sherlock feels the hard edge of his teeth beneath his nail. “I’m counting on you not to.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b> Disclaimer: </b> If your comment is just that John seems small/soft/whatever or that Sherlock is much darker/sexier/whatever, please move long. Also, for the love of my sanity, do not leave comments about John's cock being too small/Sherlock's being bigger, because I literally do not care about John Watson's fictional penis.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>